'
'Colonel Talbot?--he is a very disagreeable person, to be sure. He looks
as if he thought no Scottish woman worth the trouble of handing her a
cup of tea. But Waverley is so gentle, so well informed'--
'Yes,' said Flora, smiling; 'he can admire the moon, and quote a stanza
from Tasso.'
'Besides, you know how he fought,' added Miss Bradwardine.
'For mere fighting,' answered Flora, 'I believe all men (that is, who
deserve the name) are pretty much alike; there is generally more courage
required to run away. They have, besides, when confronted with each
other, a certain instinct for strife, as we see in other male animals,
such as dogs, bulls, and so forth. But high and perilous enterprise is
not Waverley's forte. He would never have been his celebrated ancestor
Sir Nigel, but only Sir Nigel's eulogist and poet. I will tell you where
he will be at home, my dear, and in his place,--in the quiet circle
of domestic happiness, lettered indolence, and elegant enjoyments, of
Waverley-Honour. And he will refit the old library in the most exquisite
Gothic taste, and garnish its shelves, with the rarest and most valuable
volumes; and he will draw plans and landscapes, and write verses, and
rear temples, and dig grottoes;--and he will stand in a clear summer
night in the colonnade before the hall, and gaze on the deer as they
stray in the moonlight, or lie shadowed by the boughs of the huge old
fantastic oaks;--and he will repeat verses to his beautiful wife, who
will hang upon his arm;--and he will be a happy man.
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